


In His Armour

by AgentOklahoma



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:46:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOklahoma/pseuds/AgentOklahoma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, I like to think that there’s more than one group that was selected to train for Project Freelancer, and the others got sent off to a shitty, not-as-awesome program.</p><p>So what if, Washington, the skinny, nerdy dope with the cats poster, the skateboard and the silly straw, got cornered by the assholes stuck in the shittier program, and they beat on him on his first day officially joining Project Freelancer. </p><p>AND THEN MAINE SAVES HIM AND LOVE IS IN THE AIR! (Also bonus points if you can tell what game franchise the surnames are from XD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Armour

In His Armour

…I love this prompt. I love the shit out of it.

So, I like to think that there’s more than one group that was selected to train for Project Freelancer, and the others got sent off to a shitty, not-as-awesome program.

So what if, Washington, the skinny, nerdy dope with the cats poster, the skateboard and the silly straw, got cornered by the assholes stuck in the shittier program, and they beat on him on his first day officially joining Project Freelancer.

AND THEN MAINE SAVES HIM AND LOVE IS IN THE AIR! (Also bonus points if you can tell what game franchise the surnames are from XD)

**_ RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB-RVB _ **

“I got in. Holy shit, I got in,” David said to himself, staring with slack-jawed awe at the screen in front of him, nearly dropping his skateboard and soda with how focused he was on the picture before him.

The final tests for the candidates of Project Freelancer were administered last week. And today, they posted the final scores. There were a bunch of names he didn’t recognise, followed by the next stage of the process. Going and getting their code names and getting fitted for armour. The one name he _did_ recognise, was his own. Right there, two names from the bottom, but it was on the list.

David grinned widely as he let his skateboard drop onto its wheels so he could go for a quick roll down the hallway, back to his room so he could get his things prepared for the next stage.

“You. You’re Kenway?” a voice called behind David. He turned around, seeing a tall, thuggish looking man wearing military fatigues and a university t-shirt. Behind him were, who David assumed, a few of his friends, all staring at him with similar looks of disdain.

“Um. Yeah?” he replied, not entirely sure why these guys were paying any attention to him.

“How the fuck did you get into the program when we didn’t? You’re a pathetic excuse for a soldier,” the man snarled, stalking up to David and looming over him.

“I-I passed all the tests. That was it. It was a test system,” David answered while the man just seemed to get angrier.

“You won’t last an hour in Project Freelancer. They’re the best of the best and you’re some punk kid with a fucking skateboard and…is that silly straw? Are you fucking kidding me?” the man added, seeing the yellow swirly straw sticking out from David’s soda can.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you flunked the tests,” David snapped back, immediately regretting that decision when the other soldier grabbed David by the collar of his t-shirt and shoved him back. He slipped on his skateboard, landing on his ass with a painful thud and a splash as his soda spilled on him.

“Maybe if your skull was caved in with that stupid fucking skateboard, you’d realise you should drop out and let the real soldiers have the armour and the glory,” the man threatened, picking up David’s skateboard and bringing it up over his head. David closed his eyes and raised an arm to at least lessen the damage but the blow never came. When he opened his eyes again, there was another man standing over him. A man that made the other one look like a twig, well-muscled and a shaved head. He just stared at the asshole, growling deep in his chest as he kept the skateboard up. The other soldier went as white as a sheet and let go, raising his hands in surrender.

“A-Alright. We’re going,” he said before retreating with his companions. The bald man just watched them leave before turning and facing David, staring at him for a moment then reaching his hand out for David, to help him up.

“Um…thanks,” he said, taking his hand and his skateboard back when the man passed it back to him. “A-Are you in the program too?” he asked, pointing to the board. The man looked up and nodded, putting up three fingers.

“You’re third in the group? Jesus. You must kick ass,” David said, looking back up at the board to find his saviour’s name. “James Hastings. Nice to meet you James. I’m David Kenway,” David introduced himself, holding out his hand to shake. James hesitated for a moment, but took it anyway, shaking his hand firmly but not in a ridiculous ‘prove you’re a man’ way.

“So, I need to get changed but afterwards, do you want to go together for our code name and armour assigning?” David said, tugging on his now sticky, grape soda-flavoured clothes. James hesitated again. He seemed to think very carefully before doing anything other than fighting or saving poor, helpless skateboarders with silly straws. He nodded, not saying a single word but following David down the hall, the blonde skating along leisurely to let his new friend keep up.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked and James didn’t verbally respond, just shrugged.

“I hear you. Why talk when you don’t need to,” David replied, focused on moving forward so much that he missed the look of surprise on James’ face. No one understood him. They usually ignored him (the ones that weren’t too afraid to talk to him anyway) because he wouldn’t respond verbally, just shrugs, nods or shakes. But this kid, David, understood him perfectly and they hadn’t known each other for more than 5 minutes.

“So I’ll be out in a minute, then we can head down, yeah?” David said, stopping outside of his room, kicking the skateboard up to hold onto before he vanished behind the door. James nodded, leaning against the wall and fiddling with his communicator until David reappeared and they made their way to the assigned room, Kenway rambling the entire way.

They got to the room, seating themselves in the back, being the last to show up but well before the session got underway.

“Please stand when you hear your name, then proceed to the door you are directed to,” the man, referred to as Counsellor, called to the room. Then he proceeded to list the names according to rank. First a red-haired woman, then a blonde man who made a ‘na na nana na’ remark to a similarly blonde girl seated beside him.

“James Hastings,” the Counsellor called. James stood and walked down the aisle, but not before giving a nod to David. “You’ll be Agent Maine,” he continued, handing James his tags and paperwork, then motioning to the appropriate fitting room door.

David was a far ways off, being third last in the group but when he finally had his name called, he had to keep himself from skipping down to the Counsellor.

“You are now Agent Washington,” he said, handing over what David needed while the blonde nodded and saluted, barely managing to keep the smile off his face. He sprinted over to the fitting room like a sugar-hyped five year old.

He got through the door just as Jame- no, as _Agent Maine_ was selecting his helmet style.

“Washington?” a man in a pair of slacks and a button down called, a piece of measuring tapes in his hands as he measured a man with a spectacular moustache. David nodded, keeping an eye on his new friend. Maine just frowned, looking over the helmets with no interest.

“I just need to finish up with Agent Wyoming and Agent York here, so stay in the room. Feel free to take a look at the colours and helmet styles while you wait,” the man suggested, nodding over towards the other table where Maine was milling about. The man with the tape spotted Maine and frowned. “You should help him pick something. Nothing’s catching him, I guess,” the fitter mumbled, returning to his work. Washington waltzed over to Maine, sneaking up behind him and examining the helmets on display. They were fairly standard issue for Mjolnir armour. All of them were unpainted, the only colour being the yellow in the visor.

“Like anything?” Washington asked. Maine didn’t jump, just turned his head a little to look at Wash with his peripheral vision and shrugged. The blonde searched through the helmets, spotting something bright, hidden in the corner. He picked it up, looking over the smooth design. It was more a dome than the traditional visor. It looked good, but not for Wash.

“Hey, how about this?” he picked the domed helmet up and showed it to Maine, turning it around in his hands before offering it to the other man. James took it, looking over the design. He looked up at Washington with an honest to god smile. A small one but a smile nonetheless. He nodded, noting down the helmet model in the small form they were given on the way in. There was a bit of silence while Wash looked over helmets for himself, but he was intending on going traditional, Master Chief style. He was an old-fashioned space-marine.

“What colour are you getting?”

Wash nearly didn’t catch it with how quiet it was. A low, rumbling sort of voice that he’d never heard before but most definitely came from the man standing next to him. He looked at Maine, quirking an eyebrow for a moment, but returned to the colour selections on the monitors by the full-body displays. Of course colour customization isn’t really necessary but it let the soldiers feel like their armour was their own. It also helped distinguish between them in the field.

“I like the steel. But on its own, I’d be boring. I need some me-flair. So…what do you think for accents?” Wash asked, showing Maine where he intended to have them. The shaggy haired man looked over the options before pointing out the gold. “That one?” Wash confirmed.

“Matches your hair,” Maine explained, inputting his armour style in to pick his own colour scheme. “I like…white,” he said as Washington admired the armour design.

“Agent Washington. We’re ready for you,” the tape-man called to Wash while Wyoming and York stared going into the helmet design section.

“Okay. Hey, I’ll meet up with you later, yeah?” Wash said to Maine who just responded with a nod and a small smile. Wash waved before running over to get his measurements done, thinking to himself that this would be the best opportunity for him.

Not knowing that soon, his companions would all be dead, the only remaining one driven insane and attempting to kill him for a chance at an AI.

Nothing left of James Hastings or even Agent Maine behind that helmet he helped him choose.

Just the Meta in his friend’s armour.


End file.
